Reencounter
by Andressa Matos
Summary: Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained." William Blake. What if House and Cuddy consciously and deliberately gave in to their irrevocable two-decade longing and surrendered to passion? Huddy. Rated M for smut.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer:_**I unfortunately own nothing beyond my deranged mind and my exquisite taste. House MD belongs to David Shore and FOX.

**_  
This FIC is dedicated to my dearest B, my beloved and dedicated friend and beta, and to all the other sincerely devoted Huddy fans out there, who have been shamefully neglected by Mr. Shore and Mrs. Jacobs. As well as yours, my already tiny patience has been pushed to the limits, people, but I'm just not ready to give up on our ship, not yet. So stubbornly a Huddy I'll remain, until the show's over. Who's with me??? _**

**_Andie._**

**_  
A/N: _**On _Jerkiness_ fashion, I'll be also suggesting you a soundtrack to accompany your reading… Feel free to pick up another tune of your preference if you do not appreciate my choice, ok? Enjoy yourself! :D

_*For a better experience, read it while listening to "Insatiable", by Darren Hayes._

**_  
Reencounter_**

He entered her deliberately as she sunk onto his lap, straddling his waist, her perfectly shaped legs crossed on the small of his back, both gasping at the irresistible sensation of their bodies gradually merging into one. House automatically closed his eyes and took a deep breath; the urge to begin thrusting was absolutely overwhelming as Cuddy's narrow walls gripped around him temptingly warm, wet, and tight… They had taken their time with the foreplay, exploring each other's body with patience and skill, placating the neediness that was old enough to drive out and buy its own liquor now. Two decades was a long time to make up for, too much information to update: tastes, scents, sensitive spots, preferences, unintelligible sounds of pleasure, facial expressions when the orgasm hit hardly… Nevertheless, this had unquestionably been a great (re)start so far; these two were especially designed to match. Sometimes it is all about chemistry, indeed.

Having been out of a stable relationship for more than a decade, he was no longer used to having sex without protection. House was unable to trust the women he met since Stacy; as well as the many women he had hooked up with during his agitated college days...except for one. There had always been a lot of barriers between him and _Lise_ – as his mind secretly called her in the privacy of his thoughts -, but condoms curiously had not been one of them, neither then, nor today. It was a surprise for him that she did not demand it right away, though his questionable reputation with hookers should have made her suspicious, typical of her control-seeking narcissistic persona. However, there was nothing but complicity and conviction in her eyes when she guided him into her just moments before. As his rational mind screamed at him she had just been too caught up in the heat to remember the logistic details, his heart preferred to rely on the most unrealistic and romantic explanation: maybe she did trust him enough to know he would never make her sick or cause her any harm; at least not physically.

Cuddy gazed at House's delighted expression adoringly. The many years of their turbulent coexistence had nearly made her take his handsomeness for granted. They still had a long road ahead of themselves in their newborn romantic relationship before she would feel comfortable enough to confess this to him. In fact, she really did believe time and its hair-graying, face-marking power had only been favoring him. The essence of the deliciously arrogant and witty womanizer-med-student-combo she met at Michigan remained intact, but the years and all the suffering life had put him through worked him like decades do to good wines and scotches.

She tried hard to decipher the emotions displayed carelessly on his face as she attempted to control her own that jolted through her entire body like lightning flashing across a rainy sky. Obviously, it was not just the act _per se_; she was used to sex, she liked it, certainly missed it when it was not available. However, no matter how hard she forced her blurred mind into it, she could not remember the last time she had made love in the whole sense of the word. That was, in fact, what she adored, what made her feel sate, absolute, feminine. Lisa Cuddy had put a heavy load of expectation on the various men she had been with since her first awkward time with Ben Compton, and the vast majority of them had not been able to carry it. That was probably why her relationships were as volatile as ether evaporating in the air ever so imperceptibly. Once the novelty was gone her soul left along with it leaving her body alone to seek for a simple satisfaction to its biological need.

Grabbing House's stubble face in her soft hands, Cuddy placed a tender kiss on his cheek, which took him instantly out of his reverie. His baby blue eyes had darkened a shade or two in lust and his pupils dilated. He glanced at her wolfishly, desire pouring out of his being as he claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss, urging her body closer. She moaned inside of his mouth when the slight movement pressed his penis further inside of her, the difference of their sizes making its presence known. She let him explore her mouth as she sucked on his tongue for a while before hers presented itself to the battle. Oddly enough, their kissing was as coordinated as Russian classic ballet, as if they had been practicing for years. Perhaps they had, in their dreams and lone fantasies when they reenacted this scene over and over again to an Oscar level of perfection.

House was the one who broke the kiss, panting, alveolus pushed to the very limit of air-deprivation. The corners of his mouth curled up in a timid smile - alien and lovely, so Cuddy thought. "This is just…" he started, stopping mid-sentence as his defensiveness and insecurity took the best of him. Some things never changed.

"Awesome." Cuddy smiled seductively and finished his thought that matched her own, placing her elbows on his shoulders and bowing her head to bite his lower lip and suckle on it tentatively. He tasted delectable, something comparable to a mixture of honey and mustard, _bittersweet_. While she slid her warm tongue along his mouth, she savored the exquisite flavor of his lips and sensed him hardening even more inside of her, she found the perfect term to define Gregory House, the lover: _of total overdosing material. _

His hands moved down to her ass, steely grasping her bottom cheeks. There was something about his touch, firm yet gentle, demanding and tender at the same time. It was unbelievably sexy how he openly claimed her as his with every caress, and how his skin seemed to scorch hers at the slightest contact. The urgency of his grip spoke loud and clear; he could no longer handle the torturous inertia as his penis pulsed inside of her, excited to the point of pain. Mindful not to hurt his bad leg, Cuddy elevated her hips hesitantly and sunk onto him once more, a small wince escaping her lips as his oversized length buried deep into her slender core.

House forced his eyelids to remain lifted as he scrutinized Cuddy's strikingly beautiful face, first with concern and then in awe. Her head fell back and her eyes shut as he pushed her down to him the first couple of times. A grimace deformed her features as she struggled to adapt herself to his size, yet she continued to go up and down determinedly. Afraid he might be hurting his Lise, House momentarily stopped moving to pull her lovingly into his embrace until her head was resting on his shoulder. Cuddy welcomed his tender gesture and clang to his muscled torso, his heart beating fast against hers as he proceeded to move her hips carefully, placing feather kisses and teasing bites along her shoulder blades.

It did not take long until the discomfort was gone and pleasure had taken its place. Cuddy scratched her immaculate manicured nails on House's back and jerked her hips against his now perfectly-fitting dick, loud moans escaped her lips, turning him on even more and increasing their pace. Needing to feel him thrusting deeper, Cuddy let go of his back so he could recline a bit and support himself on his arm, which gave him more space to buck his hips in a new angle and hit her _right there_. "Aw My God!" she screamed and let her head fall back when his prick massaged her G spot.

In an exertion of genuine tantric proportions, House abstracted his own pleasure to contemplate the heart-fibrillating scene before him, imprinting every detail in his memory so he could play it again and again and again in his mind after that surreal afternoon was over. Not that he did not expect these moments of licentious passion to repeat themselves – damn him if he did not turn their repetition into his own life cause – but Lisa Cuddy riding him like there was no tomorrow, her flexible hips waving like a serpent above him eagerly meeting his vigorous plunges with perfect synchrony, that was a view to carry to the grave.

A lot had passed before his aquamarine eyes in a half of century's existence, but none of it could ever be compared to that. Her godlike body began to whimper around him as soft electro shocking waves of pleasure built in her toes and rose up her lower limbs like fire on a gunpowder path. Her breathing became ever more irregular, chest arching fiercely; her brows furrowed and her gracious features grimaced into a tortured yet overjoyed expression as his name continued on slipping from her lips. It had been ages since she had last called him _Greg_, but right now it happened to sound as natural as _"good morning"_.

Cuddy's muscles began to tense all over and House instantly knew she was hitting the edge. Cradling her in his arms once again, he lapped a drop of sweat that rolled down the heated skin of her chest and buried his head between her breasts. Her hands instinctively moved to hold his head in place, and a loud cry of pleasure echoed in the room when his mouth began to suck greedily on her hardened nipple while his right thumb moved down to rub her swollen clit. "Oh my God, Greg, aaaaw", Cuddy groaned, lost in sweet desperation as her orgasm hit her mercilessly as a brick wall, her view instantly blanking.

Her core convulsed violently around his member and it took House every ounce of self-control he had left not to follow her immediately into her bliss. He knew that his body would turn into a useless heap after getting off for the "God-knows-how-many-th" time that afternoon, and his heart – well, his whole being - was running out of energy.

Cuddy enjoyed her high intensely; a large and satisfied smile enlightened her face while she gradually regained control of her over-relaxed limbs. Managing to lift her lazy eyelids again, her gaze locked into House's, who scrutinized her with a disconcertingly smug grin displayed on his face, obviously feeling incredibly good about himself. In any other condition, with any other man, she would have flushed to a ripe tomato's shade, but not then. He knew her better than that, no need to play the timid and sexually-repressed girl's card. That was, indeed, the best lay of her life and House's haughtiness was plainly justified when it came to his sexual performance, so why bother pretending?

"Is your ego going to stop inflating anytime soon? I'm genuinely concerned about the bedroom walls…" Cuddy teased. Most couples went for cuddling and cigarettes, but in their particular case banter was always the best choice, even after a mind-blowing love session.

House guffawed. "Not really…" The sound of his laughter was so rare Cuddy made an effort to record it in her mind. "And then people scold me when I say I'm _that_ good."

He was _that good_. However, in the best interest of Planet Earth and the continuation of its rotational and translational movements, Cuddy decided to put House in his place by reminding him he was not the only egomaniac in the room. His penis remained hard inside of her in spite of her previous powerful release, and now it was her turn to pay back the favor. With style.

Moving carefully not to harass him, Cuddy swung her left leg until she was no longer straddling his lap. "Yeah, I must admit, you _are_ that good…" she started when House glared at her questioningly. She ran her polished fingernails on his hairy chest seductively "The thing is I, on the other hand, _am great_." she completed, laying invitingly on the bed beside him, her stomach resting against the mattress. House's heart skipped a beat.

He fondled her ebony hair and ran his hand all the way down her back, his mind losing itself in thought just for a moment. If there was indeed a God, he must know he had tried. For twenty years House had bravely fought the invisible magnetism that attracted him to this woman, and he was positive she had also been struggling on the other end to keep them apart. Deep down he never had any doubts Lisa Cuddy was one of a kind, _his kind_, his one and only real chance of not being a lone wolf for the rest of his life, and once he had ruined everything – _because that was what he did_, _he blew things_ – he would find himself convicted to a lifelong sentence of misery. That was why he had settled for a platonic love, an idea safely locked inside of his head that did not really intend to happen, a possibility. The last shred of hope he dared to have.

Nevertheless, time had been efficient on teaching him a lesson about its uncertainty. When he admitted himself in Mayfield believing his life was over, it had actually been reset, the promise of ending revealing itself as a brand new beginning. The hallucinations had only disappeared when he no longer needed them to hide from reality. He was ready to face it now. Gregory House was making his bet, because that was actually the only way to win. And the prize was worth all the odds.

Cuddy's sinuous silhouette reminded him of a Spanish guitar as he positioned himself above her back and dove deep in her warmth, a profanity instantaneously slipping from his lips. She widened her stance to give him better access as he first slid his oversensitive cock into her canal. "Aw, damn it", he cursed, clenching his jaw at the overwhelming sensation of her velvet walls massaging his member. _Great was actually an understatement. _

House's pace gradually increased, and so did the groaning flowing freely from his mouth, which easily drove Cuddy back to the edge again, sensitive as she still was from her last climax. Initially regretful for choosing a position that kept her from touching and kissing him, she knew she could not have made a better decision when he reached under her to stimulate her clit while penetrating rhythmically. In no time, he had dragged her along with him to the summit.

House nipped at her ear's cartilage and pounded into her forcefully. Cuddy squeaked in ecstasy, body tensing, writhing, trembling, muscles contracting around his prick so he could barely move. His eyes rolled on the back of his head and he plunged into her one last time before exploding. "Lisa, aw Geez, aaaw, damn it!" Every muscle in his body tensed and he saw stars as her inner muscles throbbed and milked him dry.

Careful not to crush her petit frame under his robust one, House managed to roll over to her side and began staring at the ceiling in total elation, while Cuddy remained collapsed in bed, visibly exhausted. They lay there in absolute silence, both having a hard time to even their breathing and thankful their middle-aged hearts had worked fine over-capacity.

Cuddy was already dozing off when House broke the silence. "Lise?"

"Hmmm." She mumbled, too extenuated to come up with anything else.

"You know that thing you said three weeks ago, about taking things slowly…" House started in a soft tone, almost whispering.

"Stupid idea. Yeah, I know." Cuddy admitted. _Stupid, stupid idea indeed._

The silence sunk in again. House was the one almost asleep when Cuddy turned on her right side and murmured, "Greg?"

"What?" He replied, still riding the remnants of his high. His body was so light he thought he would levitate. Compared to this feeling, Vicodin was inoffensive as breath mints.

"Wanna cuddle…" Cuddy whined, in the cutest fake pout ever.

House chuckled. "Thought you'd never ask… C'me here."

She rested her head on his chest and his arm brought her close, a smile on both their faces oblivious to the other. She wrapped her leg around his possessively and he inhaled the raspberry scent of her shampoo. It surprised them how simple and right it felt though, to be together like that. Maybe that is what happiness is about, simplicity. Little precious moments enjoyed in small portions of greatness. They had no idea how many they would have ahead of them or how long each one would last. All the same, each one would feel infinite.

**_  
Reviews are love, especially the long, thoughtful, positive ones... LOL! Just kidding. Speak your mind if you feel like it and I promise to get back to you. :D_**

**_Hmmm, just a last question… You guys want me to continue? I could definitely do that. Just let me know whether or not you are eager to find out how House and Cuddy ended up having smoking hot afternoon sex and I will to tell you everything. In details. ;*_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**_I unfortunately own nothing beyond my deranged mind and my exquisite taste. House MD belongs to David Shore and FOX.

_**Hello, readers of my heart. I know apologizing for the delay is part of the protocol, but I don't think you guys are really interested in my fastidious routine at the office and the unbelievably huge amount of boring stuff that has kept my beta and I from bringing this to you sooner, so just go ahead and read it, ok? **__**I know you're dying to. **_

_**XOXO**_

_**Andie **_

_**A/N: **_On _Jerkiness_ fashion, I'll be also suggesting you a soundtrack to accompany your reading… Feel free to pick up another tune of your preference if you do not appreciate my choice, ok? Enjoy yourself! :D

_*For a better experience, read it while listening to "__Patience", by Guns 'N' Roses._

_**Reencounter**__** – The origin**_

House watched Cuddy sleep peacefully, unceremoniously sprawled on his bed – well, _Wilson's spare bed_. Her ebony hair looked lovely, disorderly scattered on the pillow, like a soft and shiny piece of black silk. Entangling his fingers in her now straight hanks, House wondered why she had gotten rid of her beautiful curls. He had always thought they somehow reflected her untamed personality, which had been regretfully retrained behind her Administrator-Dean-of- Medicine daily armor in the last decade or so, in opposition to her free and careless college – _and party_ – days back in the 80's. House inhaled the sweet fruity scent of her shampoo for the hundredth time that afternoon and hoped he would be able to convince her to grow her curls back soon.

House grinned in satisfaction after noticing there were no longer any vestiges of her ever so impeccable businesswoman makeup, except for the last traces of her black eyeliner that now tainted the skin under her eyes instead of charmingly enhancing them. She looked like a mess, the mess he knew deep down she would always be, despite the renowned and social status that her triumphant career had provided her; not that he did not admire Dr. Lisa Cuddy as a professional. Regardless of the mean comments and iron-like criticism, he was proud of her, profoundly, almost as much as he was of his own accomplishments. Nevertheless, he had never managed to tell her that, not even in the hard days when he knew she needed to hear it the most, and for that he was regretful. Maybe his acid behavior towards her headship position had to deal with the secret jealousy he felt concerning her work, which targeted a great amount of attention that he selfishly and undisguisedly craved.

All the indiscipline and rebellion people ordinarily attributed to his anarchic personality did have a much simpler explanation: House hated having to share Cuddy. Above all else it infuriated him how working at PPTH had reduced him to the same category as hundreds of moronic employees she bossed with an iron fist. He could not take that, not when she was the main reason for him to be there in the first place. No. He was not insignificant like the others, and reminding her of that fact turned into an obsession, a really fun and amusing one, by the way. Cuddy had always looked mind-blowingly sexy when she was angry, and irritating her was doubly useful to House: with one single daily action he made sure she never stopped thinking about him and polished his treasured bad boy's fame so it could shine bright all over the medical community.

But this woman that laid before him he had absolutely no intentions of upsetting. That was his Lise. Approaching her ever so carefully not to wake her up, House breathed her in and placed a feather kiss on her forehead as he had been doing for the last 45 minutes since an inconvenient nightmare dragged him back from his orgasmic-induced slumber. In spite of the fright that the bad dream had caused him, he was actually happy it had done so, because sleeping was obviously a waste of time at the moment. Marveling at her like this was much more fun. There was no need to pretend he was not overwhelmed by her beauty and to force the beam off of his face when she was unconscious. He had the luxury to be idiotically affectionate as much as he wanted without having to put the "I-don't-give-a-shit" mask on. Frankly, he was growing more and more tired of it.

She looked somehow fragile like this, naked and oblivious to the rest of the world, breathing steadily as light female snoring escaped her half-parted lips. House felt an urge to protect her, even though he was sure she had never – and probably _would_ never - need his chivalrous services. In fact, he had always been the one to be saved by her, from jail, from death… And most frequently unemployment. Scrutinizing her sleeping figure, he asked himself how on earth she had managed to trick time and convince it to be so generous with her. Her body did not look exactly like he remembered it from Michigan times: it looked way better. A magnificent indulgence to all five senses, his hallucination(s) had definitely not made her justice. Her curves were more sinuous than his mind had registered, her breasts were firm and creamy, and so were her thighs, uncovered by the blue cotton sheet that cruelly hid her sex. His mouth watered as the view of them reminded him of her taste and smell; utterly intoxicating. Pulling on the sheet to cover more of her body before his lustful thoughts took the best of him, House spotted the remnants of his seed that had rolled down her left groin and stuck to her thigh. Immersed in male pride, he instantly felt incredibly self-satisfied for the zillionth time that afternoon, the primal need of marking his territory somehow fulfilled as his female rested serenely in his cave after he had just filled her with his passion.

After his National Geographic moment, an idea crossed House's mind and he burrowed his eyebrows in concern right away. Although Lisa had apparently given up on her dream of conceiving, there was no incontestable proof she was not able to, so… What if this steamy afternoon had any consequences other than a lot of love bruises and burned calories? House had made sure she came several times and it was scientifically proved that orgasms helped with conception… His mind automatically went into turmoil as he tried to remember when she had had her last period so he could calculate her fertile period and find out whether or not she was ovulating. After a good five minutes of speculating – and freaking out in the process – House relaxed his worried expression as a sort of epiphany washed down over him. What was he really afraid of? Making the woman of his life's biggest dream come true? Of course there was the hardly ignorable part of him not wanting – or being prepared - to be a father, and all the inevitable changing in French Revolution proportions that fathering Lisa's baby would bring to both their lives but, like, who the hell cared? There was nothing in the world he was capable of denying her at that precise moment. Consequences be damned, he would deal with them later, if there were ever any.

Apart from their quite juvenile - and medically irresponsible - negligence when it came to using protection, House and Cuddy's sexual reencounter had been as yearned and long-awaited as a new installment to the Twilight Saga or Harry Potter films. Despite the previous remark that had cockily left his mouth coated in post-orgasmic haze, House was actually glad that he and Cuddy had managed to postpone that moment for almost a month. As gay – or Wilson… - as it might sound, the long built anticipation had only made things more special and meaningful, as if that was even possible after over two decades of longing. Though their bodies had been burning in desire all along, his steel erections nearly tearing a hole in his trousers at the lightest - _yet outright electrifying_ - contact of their mutually scorching skins, they had proudly remained celibate; that is, if you compliantly extended the concept wide enough to include fourth base, anyway.

During those first three weeks of persistent dating – and hormones-through-the-roof, 24/7-horny-and-sex-obsessed-teenager like make out sessions - whenever House's hunger for Cuddy menaced to overpower his fragile self-control, his imperative mind replayed a scene in her office, less than five minutes after their first kiss in over an year, the gasping plea that escaped her lips as his impatient hands slid under her pencil skirt to bury themselves in her heat. _"No, House, please, not yet… Not here, not like this…"_ Her green-blue eyes had darkened to a light grey, lust dilating her pupils and causing her heated flesh to tremble under his touch. He knew how great of an effort she was impeding not to melt into his arms right away, because it matched his own strive not to take her and make love to her on that very light grey couch until both of them passed out.

Back in that gelid afternoon, when the last feeble walls of pointless resistance had crumbled and the dam of desire had dragged them back together, as lost in need as House was with Cuddy straddling his lap, he could not ignore the urgency of her supplication from the very moment he identified the sincerity waving in her gaze. The woman was strong, but obviously not enough to resist longer if he continued his skillful ministrations. If it was any other female in his arms, House would have definitely taken such a reaction for granted - the old-fashioned tactic girls still used to get men even crazier with desire - and give her what she really called for.

However, Cuddy was the one helplessly writhing in his arms, and House knew her enough to distinguish the meaningful no's from the sexual teasing charade. Taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw in an ultimate try to cool down his boiling blood, House tenderly embraced Cuddy's small frame and fondled her hair, soothingly. The intensity of her grip on his back let him know right away that her desistence should not be interpreted as rejection. She was actually not ready to give herself fully yet, and it was not only about sex. Hardly.

They stood silently lost in the comfort of each other's arms for more than ten minutes until Cuddy reluctantly let go of House. Her gorgeous eyes were back to their usual ocean blue shade, and she planted a lingering kiss on his lips. "_Thank you for understanding…_" she whispered, caressing his stubble and brushing his lips one more time before standing up.

House remembered feeling pretty undeserving of her gratitude as he walked out of her office minutes later, still powerfully aroused and undeniably frustrated. Though he still did not get her reasons for abruptly pulling on the brakes like that, he could not help but feel ecstatic about the advances they had just made that afternoon, all because of leftover lasagna. Entering the men restroom to get rid of the not too little problem in his straining pants, he made a mental note to thank Wilson for taking him to those cooking classes four months ago.

It had all started two days earlier. Two weeks after Lucas had his PI butt promptly kicked to the curb right after Valentine's Day – _yeah, that was definitely mean but not soon enough… _- the awkwardness between House and Cuddy remained intact. She would come to see him only when it was strictly necessary, and he had decided to give her the time she needed to move on, deviously planning on using it to figure out a way to approach her subtly and efficiently. No way was she escaping him this time, not after he had persistently waited more than six months until the boy toy became ancient history. But when her visits went from rare to nonexistent, House got puzzled. It had been five days - weekend included – since he had last laid his hawk eyes on her zesty bod. Something was definitely up, and he was definitely into solving the mystery.

After a whole day of futile inquisition sessions with Wilson, House's mind was working more frantically than ever, trying to make the best use of the only handy piece of information his bro had been able to provide him about their boss. According to PPTH's oncologist version of Michael Ausiello, Cuddy's disappearance had a pretty logical and lame justification: work overload. Hospital's accreditation was about to expire, and the visit from the rat who was supposed to renew it could happen any day now. That was a good enough reason to freak her out. The two-hundred-thousand-dollar fine received two years ago still gave her migraines and pissed her perfection-maniac-administrator self off big time.

She was obviously revising every chart, budget and other boring-to-death kinds of paperwork which the existence of House was particularly proud of ignoring, personally making sure her older baby was not charged with a single cent this year. Obsession was clearly a quality Cuddy shared with her most infamous employee. Actually, it was the most inoffensive of them. They also had another apparently unimportant thing in common: they were the only two people at PPTH who had ever acknowledged the existence of an enigmatic and sneaky character on the hospital's busy routine: Blue, the janitor.

A real master in the art of scrutiny, House had long realized that Blue – actually it was Lou, but since Remy had been successfully turned into Thirteen, name memorizing had gotten even lower a position in House's deranged rank of priorities – was a precious source of news, whether it consisted of useful pieces of information or juicy gossip. That day, however, when the invisible floor-mopper volunteered his secret to his lollipop-sucking contact that their tauntingly-hip-swinging boss had not left her headquarters a single time since her 7 a.m. arrival, not even to grab one of her favorite vegetarian tasteless sandwiches at the cafeteria, House had permanently welcomed Blue to his ultra exclusive group of valuable acquaintances. A few seconds later his distinctively brilliant mind came up with an original and infallible plan.

Cuddy was as immersed in her work as Beyoncé is now in her countless Grammy statuettes when House limped soundly into her office, unannounced and badly timed, as always. Without taking her eyes off of the budget she had been revising for the last half hour, Cuddy's ears waited anxiously to hear the annoying remark that was about to leave his mouth any second in order to get her undivided attention. Surprisingly, there was none. After almost two minutes of immaculate silence in the room, the dean finally got the point of House's quietness; in fact, his silence and good behavior was infinitely more disturbing than whatever nonsense he could state to make her aware of his undesired presence. With a deep patience-gathering sigh, Cuddy decided it was time to initiate the newest act of their two decade drama.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cuddy frowned and asked out of astonishment, when she looked up just to spot House comfortably sitting on her couch. He held a big plastic container full of food in his left hand and a fork in his right one, which kept on shoving large amounts of whatever stinky gross thing his lunch was in his open awaiting mouth.

Without really bothering on answering Cuddy's idiotic question – which he hoped to be rhetorical, otherwise she must have starved as long as necessary to forget the whole concept of getting fed and his brilliant plan was doomed – House continued on chewing unaffectedly, eventually taking a long gulp from his giant paper cup that rested on Cuddy's coffee table. When he felt like her aggravated stare was piercing enough to open a hole in his skull, he offered nonchalantly "Just hanging. I hope you don't mind."

"Well, it's too bad, because I do mind." Cuddy replied sincerely. It was not exactly House's being there that was bugging her but the food he was devouring with so much gusto. She had been starving for hours now and the unidentified potentially coronary-blocking food smelled better by the minute. "Why don't you go irresponsibly pump yourself with calories and elevate your cholesterol levels somewhere else, I don't know, in your office, maybe?" Cuddy suggested in a sarcastic and impatient tone while her disobeying eyes struggled to identify the object of House's gully. _Was that lasagna?_

"Aw Cuddles, no need to be so nasty. This way I'll think you don't want me around..." House pretended to be offended, his features briefly deformed in a fake pout before he clarified "My office's being vacuumed. I have a severe dust allergy, remember? Do you want me to get into a crisis and miss work for a week?" He exaggerated, laughing internally at his blatant lie. His allergy that wasn't that serious, nor was his room being cleaned and deep inside Cuddy knew that. All the same, he had plenty of proof to believe she was too afraid of risking his health to take the chance of sending him back to the fourth floor.

House's theory was proven right once Cuddy hurried on enumerating his other lunch location options. "What about Wilson's office?"

"He's seeing patients right now, Dr. Cuddy. In case you forgot, that's what we doctors do." House replied ironically, only this time he was telling the truth. Wilson's schedule was actually overloaded today and desperate dying people were definitely not a booster for House's appetite.

"Cafeteria? Doctors lounge?" Cuddy persisted, suddenly having a hard time suppressing her laugh. It was obvious that House was screwing with her, but she could not help but push his buttons and see how far we could go with his farce.

"Both crowded. No place to sit and rest my crippled leg." House refuted immediately, deciding to play in Cuddy's grand-slam banter game. It felt like his own personal version of tennis for exasperatingly clever cripples.

"Morgue." Cuddy tried once more, throwing the ball back to House's court and having a hard time remaining seated as her whole body reacted to their verbal dispute like Roger Federer seconds before a serve.

"Autopsies' time". Dead flesh smell gives me heart burn." House countered effortlessly.

"Clinic." Cuddy reclined comfortably in her leather chair and continued on her offensive, determined to run him out of excuses.

"Full of deprived and starving people. They might assault me to steal my lunch." House responded with a wicked smile that matched the amazed chortle his witty comeback had managed to extract from Cuddy's impassible figure.

"Chapel." Cuddy suggested a tad bit too lamely, laughing in anticipation at House's answer. She had forgotten how awesome it felt, bickering with him for the most foolish reason.

"No food allowed, except for the body of Christ. And I guess this tastes better." House blasphemed humorously, instantly self-righteous as Cuddy guffawed wholeheartedly at his remark. Jews and their Anti-Christian sense of humor…

"Roof." Cuddy made her last move between giggles.

"It's raining!" House protested in mock indignation, pointing with the fork at the open wooden blinds behind Cuddy's desk that did little to hide the rainstorm that fell noisily outside, an army of cirrus nimbus tinting Princeton's sky in grey.

The game was over when Cuddy suddenly forgot to hit the ball, carelessly allowing it to touch the floor of her court repeatedly while she lost herself in the light blue vividness of House's eyes. He was enjoying this just as much as she was, reviving the good old times when awkwardness had not yet taken the best of them and jeopardized their otherwise playful and fun relationship. So for a few more seconds Greg and Lisa crept outside of their House and Cuddy carapaces and laughed together before Cuddy's blackberry inopportunely rang, ruining the moment's magic.

Cuddy unwillingly answered her call and House continued his nutrition ritual with deliberation, worried that he might run out of food before Cuddy surrendered to her stomach demands and asked him for a bite. The woman was stubborn as an untamed mule, but her body language had already started giving her away as she observed House eating from the corner of her eye, her tongue discretely lavishing her lips as she watched him savor the Carbonara lasagna, making it look like the most yummy cookery on the planet.

Nevertheless, House ignored that there was another capital sin just as powerful as gluttony enslaving Cuddy's being in that exact moment: lust. The Dean struggled to pay attention to Eli's words but her eyes would not divert from the tempting view before her, both primal connotative and denotative hunger instincts activated as her starved stomach groaned for the food and the rest of her body ached for the man. Little by little her brain was being overruled by her senses, until shutting down altogether after the _end_ button of her smartphone was finally pressed.

Cuddy did not really premeditate the action of silently standing up from her chair and joining House on the couch. Sitting by his side, she did not have to say a word as he scrutinized her expression briefly and easily read the message displayed in her green blue gaze. That man knew her; he was aware of every one of her needs and of that she became positive once he fed her the first forkful of pasta.

The unequaled flavor assaulted her palate and Cuddy dropped her eyelids in delectation. It had not been all a show on House's part after all, the food was actually delicious. Cuddy's gustative papilla processed the now unfamiliar tastes; the bacon was definitely incompatible with her vegan diet, the cheese and béchamel nothing like the green salads and tofu she was used to having for lunch. All the same, she could not recall the last time eating had given her so much pleasure. It felt like breaking all the rules, paying no attention to _should_ and letting _need_ irresponsibly walk in and take over.

House observed Cuddy chew and savor the food with devotion. Like everything else she did, she was awfully sexy while she ate. Her eyes had closed for a split second and were new reopening, her tongue reflexively sweeping the vestiges of sauce from her alluring lips. House's stare was fixated on his target as Cuddy's hypnotizing mouth opened to whisper rhetorically "Delicious". _Oh yeah, delicious indeed._

"You want more?" House asked tentatively with that fatal half-grin that swooped Cuddy off of her feet. His mind already worked on a witty comeback, expecting her to try to confiscate his food and fork, but not even in his wildest hallucinations he dared to hope for the reaction she actually had. Unable to formulate a speech of any kind she simply opened her mouth invitingly, the tip of her tongue caressing her lower lip while she waited for the next forkful of lasagna. And it came, after some seconds of teasing, followed by numerous others just as tasty as House continued to feed her. The straining on his denim increased fiercely, the fulfillment of one of her primal needs worsening the one that harshly assaulted his crotch.

Little by little, the extra big portion of lasagna was consumed by a famished Cuddy, until there was nothing left in the container but some remnants of béchamel. The room was noiseless as a crypt as neither of them had the guts to break the occasion's spell and settled for sharing affectionate glances, enjoying each other's presence without the usual complication factors. As House fed her the last forkful, Cuddy's mind worked anxiously on a way to prolong the moment - wanting it to last as long as possible since _forever_ unfortunately was not really an option – and that was when her eyes caught the big cup of soda resting and leaving a mark on her glass table.

With the trademark lopsided smile adorning her lips, Cuddy pointed at the cup and House offered her a rare genuine smile in response before reaching for it and bringing the straw to her lips. She sucked on it feverishly, the cool liquid invading her mouth and sating the less bothersome part of her thirst, brought by the salt in the food. The merciless dominant part, however, only increased with House's proximity, his pomegranate lips only inches away from hers, the fountain of her balsam begging to be drunk from. Her nerves were efficient in conducting the anticipation to the borders of her body, her blood flooding down and concentrating itself on a particular spot between her legs which, as her mouth, had long been melting for his attention.

The view of Cuddy's lips sucking on the straw was far more than House could take, an equally cylindrical part of his body automatically relating to the scene displayed before his wolfish eyes. He did not really take notice that his body was approaching hers, moving with a will of its own to surrender to the overpowering need of having her closer. Cuddy did not seem to mind his move either, remaining frozen in place as House shortened the unbearable distance between them.

Her sucking never subsided, and she continued eagerly gulping peach iced tea even when House started to pull the cup away from her, a clever pretext to lower the inches that separated him from his final goal. Once the straw reached the bottom of the cup, making that characteristic deaf sound as her lips sipped the last milliliters of liquid, House pulled the cup away at once and willingly gave in to temptation, his avid lips brushing a gentle and delicate kiss on Cuddy's sweet wet ones.

The world stood still while the candid gesture lasted, Cuddy's eyelids dropping in elation while her hands flew up to rest on House's hollow cheek. Contradicting her expectations, he did not endeavor to deepen the kiss, prematurely parting their lips before lust took the best of him. He needed to know, to make sure that Cuddy wanted this as much as he did, and he eagerly searched for the answer in her shiny pair of jades after their foreheads touched for a second or two.

There it was, the same anticipation and desire that matched his, waving riotously in her ocean orbs, the confirmation he yearned before jumping head first to drown in her passion. And so he did, crashing her mouth with a second kiss that lacked most of the innocence and tenderness of the first. Without bothering on asking for entrance, his tongue marched into her open-expecting mouth and invited hers to swirl in a heated tango, his hands traveling south and resting on her waist to pull her body closer.

Cuddy moaned inside of his mouth and rested her elbows on his shoulders, moving her chest forward against his and angling her head until their mouths had merged into a perfect fit. In no time she was already straddling his lap, her pencil skirt moving up her thighs as his hands roamed uncontrollably in a hurried recognition mission of her lower half. Dizzy after almost a minute of oxygen deprivation, their brains ordered their mouths to separate in order to refill their panting lungs and they reluctantly did, House's lips traveling southeast to assault Cuddy's neck. Her fingers entangled themselves in his short gray tufts and held his head in place while his hands worked nervously on pulling her sweater up her head. His motion instantly reminded her of the small, almost insignificant detail of their current location. "The door", she managed to mumble, as House trailed his kissing-licking-sucking-nipping attentions to her over-exposed cleavage.

"It's locked", he assured her, grabbing two handfuls of her pear-shaped ass and drawing her to him as he hungrily claimed her mouth in another passionate kiss. Cuddy's overwhelmed mind tried to interpret his act of previously locking the door as cunning premeditation, but it blanked out altogether as House granted her tongue passage and got to suck greedily on it, his grip tightening on her bottom cheeks and pulling her even closer so she could feel his hardness. A loud groan echoed in both their throats once her warmth met the bulge in his trousers, the delightful pressure sending electro shock waves all over her throbbing needy clit.

The urge to grind was unbearable, and Cuddy yielded to it as her hips rotated sensually against House's erection, yanking a profanity out of his half-parted lips. His intention of removing Cuddy's sweater was immediately beaten by the need to inspect her readiness. He was not a man of rushing things or skipping stages, but the heat radiating from her core and the rigidity of his member gave him a clue that they would not be lasting longer that afternoon. The woman was a hell of a kisser and the previous feeding session had been way too hot a foreplay, so the bonding session between House and the twins Patty and Selma would have to be postponed to round number two.

Cuddy felt House's hands abandon her back and move underneath her skirt to caress her inner thighs. His slender digits approached her groin and were about to get coated in her wetness when her otherwise silenced mind found an opportunity to opinionate. _Things are going way too fast_, spoke the voice of reason, and Cuddy decided to give her conscience some attention for the first time in over ten minutes.

In fact, a reencounter with her love was way too significant an occasion to be reduced to a quickie on an uncomfortable office couch. Back in House's arms after two decades of yearning, Cuddy could not afford the risk of making love to him without covering the emotional bases between them, without ensuring that the recent past and inevitable awkwardness would not jeopardize the continuity of their reborn relationship. House was not a fuck or a pastime. He was the love of her life, her one true shot at genuine happiness and she wanted to be his entirely: mind, body and soul.

That conviction was strong enough to beat the overwhelming requires of her body as she begged him to stop in a murmur, her hammering heart skipping a couple of beats in anticipation to his unpredictable reaction. The pheromone-induced portion of her being hoped he would ignore her plea and go on, fucking the hesitation away and taking them both to the stars. However, she exhaled in relief once he respected her will and enveloped her petit frame on a loving hug. Afraid he might misinterpret her insecurity as refusal, she beseeched his comprehension by clinging to him tightly, nesting her head on his shoulder and planting feather kisses on his sweaty and salty skin of his neck.

Once his pianist fingers buried themselves in her ebony curls and massaged her scalp in a calming manner, Cuddy knew he had understood. Closing her eyes and inhaling his unique male scent, she relaxed and fully enjoyed the sensation of closeness, the ardent flames of passion slowly cooling into a warm breeze of tenderness.

Cuddy did not know for sure how much time passed until she was able to reunite the necessary strength to let go of House's grip, though it felt wrong and hard all the same. There was nothing else in the world she craved more than going home with him right now and finish what they started, the irrational part of her brain yelling angrily at her as she stood up and straightened her clothing after giving him a couple of pecks on the lips and mouthing an unconfident _thank you for understanding_. What if he did not? What if he no longer wanted anything to do with her? What if she had just wasted her one last chance to be his again? Her stomach churned in panic as he grabbed his cane and got up from the couch, his navy blue shirt doing little to cover the salience still very evident on his Levi's front. Reaching for his container, fork and paper cup, he limped silently to the door and clutched the doorknob.

_That's it, I ruined everything_, Cuddy thought with desolation, eyes already starting to tear up before beholding his turning figure "You gotta do this several times a day, you know? The eating thing…" he indirectly proposed, ice blue eyes nervously waiting for an acceptance to his way too subtle date invitation. Relief washed over Cuddy and she flashed a blindingly bright smile before acquiescing "Pick me up at seven."

And that had been the beginning of the three-week journey that led them to those crumpled sheets right in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. They had laughed, fought, made out, bickered, seriously talked and fed each other a lot in their almost daily dates. House and Cuddy were once again Greg and Lisa, with no formalities or restrictions outside work; boyfriend and girlfriend at last, after twenty-something years of unreasoned setback.

House lost himself in his reminisces when that irritating and incomprehensible Hanson's tune started playing loudly on his iPhone. His ducklings were not exactly known for their good timing…

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